


Haunted

by aBeautifulDropOfIodine



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, What's the worst that could happen, but why the hell not?, found this in google docs, mostly just character study, never posted on here before, only hate it a litle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 00:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11909487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBeautifulDropOfIodine/pseuds/aBeautifulDropOfIodine
Summary: Roy Mustang has always been haunted. A little peace is too much to ask for.





	Haunted

Roy Mustang has always been haunted.

His earliest memory is just a shadow of his mother’s smile, nothing more. His aunt taught him to cherish the image.

Later, it’s her words of warning, bidding him to always be on his best behavior. To learn everything, to do her proud. Those words ring in his ears long after his apprenticeship starts.

Eventually, though, they are replaced by endless brown eyes.

(Her eyes follow him still at the Academy, their expression as he walked away. But to admit that would be to admit he looked back after all.)

After the Academy, before Ishval, it’s swirling lines of blood red ink that dance behind his eyelids when he tries to sleep. She wouldn’t tell him when her father started. She insisted it was her choice.

He blames himself. Perhaps if he hadn’t left, her father wouldn’t have marred her, scarred her.

The thought taunts him.

But Ishval soon covers it, with screams and heat and the unmistakable scent of humans burning alive. His own naive words echo in his head, endlessly. His grand plans of alchemy to help the people.

And a pair of brown eyes, almost alive for the first time in years as she stands beside her father’s grave.

He thinks she’s a hallucination at first. He hopes she’s a hallucination at first. But this is war, this is murder, and murderers aren’t allowed to hope.

Her eyes are dead again.

It haunts him.

(She shouldn’t be here. None of them should be. But not her, especially not her. Things were finally going right for her, she was finally free.)

She insists this was her choice too, but he knows

She followed him. Him and his naive dreams.

Too late, but now he knows better.

Grander plans, still naive perhaps, but no one can say that he is naive as well. Not anymore.

In his guilt, he can deny her nothing. He understands why her father’s notes must be destroyed. Her silent sobs are louder than the screams that will always echo in his ears.

Memories of innocent times mock him.

When Elicia is born, it hits him in a rush. She is perfect innocence. She knows nothing of war, of death, of murder, of how it feels to watch cities burn at your fingertips. There’s nostalgia, of course. But there’s desire as well. To be like Maes, to swallow the horrors and move on, to build something new out of the ashes. A touch of envy, perhaps.

That sin haunts him as Maes is buried, as Elicia cries.

Golden eyes accuse as he stares at the grave and, for a moment, considers what it would be like to bring him back.

Havoc’s empty desk is another reminder of failure.

(Somehow the absence of cigarette smoke still stings.)

Every ringing phone is a disappointment. He never thought he would miss the endless gushing about Gracia and Elicia.

As the Promised Day approaches, his words to Raven echo in his mind. The silence of his office mocks him. His failure to find Maes’ murderer festers. Just beyond that are the screams of Ishval, still deafening even after all these years.

After everything, it’s remembered colors that haunt his dreams. When his sight is restored, it’s remembered darkness. Through it all is regret and the memory of rage he couldn’t, wouldn’t, stop from burning out of control.

(He swore he would never burn her again, and yet. And yet.)

The sight of her bleeding out in front of him has become his mind’s new favorite nightmare.

(He preferred Ishval.)

When Fullmetal has kids, it’s getting suckerpunched by a ghost. Every time the man calls, he has to remind himself not to call him Hughes. Gushing about Winry, about their kids, the deja vu is overwhelming.

For the first time in years, he can almost hear Maes’ voice again.

When Havoc shows up with pictures of his and Catalina’s kids, showing them to anyone and everyone, it doesn’t help.

(That envy rears its ugly head again.)

He mentions it to her once. Only once.

What if they got married. Had kids. Could they move on from what they’ve done?

She reminded him again what he already knows.

That is a happiness they don’t deserve.

(For a second he saw his impossible dream reflected in her eyes and _hoped_. Hope always hurts the most.)

Maes Hughes, his own rage, failing Havoc, losing his sight, losing her, seeing Truth, flame alchemy, his demons change form but never fall silent. Blood on his hands. Screaming. Searing heat. The stench of burning flesh.

Death approaches, inevitably.

He might go to hell, he supposes.

(He’s already been through it.)

Roy Mustang has always been haunted.

A little peace is more than he deserves.


End file.
